The consensus among scientists is that the universe is about 13.8 billion years old, with the earth being approximately 4.54 billion years old. There are various ways to measure the universe’s age. One particularly intriguing method is based on the “rate of expansion.” Scientists calculate the distance of other galaxies and the speed at which those star clusters are moving away from us. The time that it has taken those systems to be in the position they are in the universe in relation to Earth indicates the amount of time the universe has been expanding from the point of origin.
The vastness and longevity of the universe aside, Earth is a unique planet if for no other reason because it is habitable (at least for now). While we often take this for granted, there are a confluence of factors that must come together to ensure that it is viable for human life. In his book Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space, astronomer Carl Sagan poignantly described our planet from a space probe photo 3.7 billion miles away:
That’s us. On it, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever lived, lived out their lives. The aggregate of all our joys and sufferings . . . every king and peasant, every hopeful child, every mother and father . . . in the history of our species, lived there on a mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam. The earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. It underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly and compassionately with one another and to preserve and cherish that pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.
As I look at the imperceptible speck in all that celestial emptiness, his description washes over me in a way that I cannot help but feel insignificant and powerfully important at the same time. My thoughts are immersed in thinking about the fragility of our existence while also considering the resilience of life and formidable force we represent. And still, it leaves me with the question if we are a product of some cosmic accident or a contrived miracle. Whatever the educated guess, the details come together harmoniously to make the Earth’s story an extraordinary one. Consider, for instance, the stabilizing effect of the moon on the climate and the consequential impact some scientists believe it had in birthing life on the planet because of its gravitational pull that creates high tides. Ponder the rhythm of the seasons and the variety of lifeforms brought to bear by the consistency of daylight and nightfall. Think of the sturdy, stable magnetic fields of the Earth, which protect it from violent explosions in the sun’s atmosphere. Incidentally, those magnetic fields exist only because of the precise amount of radioactive material that serendipitously came together to form the Earth’s core. Let us also not discount the equally important ozone layer—foundational to a hospitable ecosystem so that plant life could release oxygen into the atmosphere, which eventually spawned animal life. While Mars and Venus are relatively close, the Earth (and our solar system) is generally isolated from the perils of space that exist at the Milky Way’s periphery and beyond. Those hazards are often neutralized by the intense gravity of the gas giant, Jupiter, which acts as a catchment for meteors that could otherwise strike the Earth and turn everything into ash. At the center of our solar system (and our existence), is the sun—a rarer type of star known as a yellow dwarf. It is more durable than larger stars and not as volatile as smaller ones. All these elements, among others, enabled the third rock from the Sol to support life when it first appeared around a half-billion years ago.
As we consider the intricacies of the universe that coalesced into a planet teeming with life, what lessons can the court manager draw upon? Not these exact details of course, because the court manager’s responsibilities do not rise to the level of protecting the species from solar radiation, but how critical are the details of our profession to preserving “the only home we’ve ever known”? Is there value in the details of our day-to-day work together with all its interconnections that comprise the enormous bureaucracy of the judiciary? What difference (if at all) do these details make?
***
Toni always calendared the last weekend of every September for winemaking. Each year she extended an invitation to help (rather than to simply watch), and so as a matter of course that Saturday and Sunday were always booked in my schedule. Toni was an early riser, but on days where there was a specific objective to be accomplished, the day started even earlier. The best I could muster following an evening out the night before was 8:00 AM—three hours after she had already started her day. She smiled as she saw me drive up and directed me to park along the farther end of the driveway so that there would be adequate space for us to move in and out of the garage. The space was reserved for the motorized crusher and destemmer that would grind the grapes into a fifty-gallon steel vat. The clusters would then ferment in the tank, causing the skins to burst, after which Toni would transfer the grapes into a press to extract the remaining juice.
She was seated at a wrought-iron bistro table set against the railroad-tie retaining wall that led up to the backyard part of her property. “Am I that late? Looks like you’re already taking your midday break,” I joked.
“Come and sit. I sent Jack out to pick up a few more yeast packets, so I’m taking a minute to enjoy this tea,” she replied.
“Did you forget to buy some?” I asked as she began pouring me a cup.
“No—I bought the usual amount I use, but when the lugs were delivered yesterday evening, I was picking through some of them, and the density gives me the feeling that we’ll yield more this year.”
“That’s a good problem to have,” I replied while raising the tea to my nose to take in the flavor. “How apropos that we’re drinking a grape tea.”
“It’s a grape oolong looseleaf blend. It’s unsweetened, but try it first before adding any sugar,” she insisted.
I took a sip and decided it didn’t need the additional calories.
“Did you eat breakfast?” she asked while getting up from her chair. Not waiting for a response, she went into the house from the backyard entrance.
“Just a piece of fruit,” I responded before she shut the sliding glass door behind her. Sitting there alone I noticed that she must have been reviewing her winemaking notes from prior years comparing it to today’s itemized purchase list:
3 lugs @ 36 lbs. = 6 gallons (23 liters)
6 lugs Cabernet – $50
6 lugs Grenache – $46
8 lugs Alicante – $47
4 lugs Tempranillo – $50
6 packages premier cuvée yeast
I quickly thumbed through the pages reading her calculations and general observations: “Alicante exceptional this year . . . After two weeks hydrometer still read above zero for being fully fermented . . . Grapes slightly overripe when lugs were opened to crush.”
Toni came back out with a frittata sandwich and slid it over to me, “You’ll need your energy this morning, so a piece of fruit isn’t going to cut it.”
“Thank you,” I replied taking a bite. “Delicious, and you added my favorite—broccoli rabe.” Taking another bite, I requested, “You’ll have to share the recipe with me.”
“I’m glad you like it, but you might just be hungry. It’s not too complicated, but the portions need to be right so that you don’t overpower the sandwich with any one ingredient. So, eggs (obviously), broccoli rabe, baby spinach, fresh mozzarella, salt, and pepper. The key is to toast the brioche and then brush both sides with extra virgin olive oil.”
“It looks like making one of your frittata sandwiches has the same number of details as your wine journal,” I replied.
“In that way it’s not unlike making wine and similar to what you do for living—just not as consequential.”
“How do you mean?” I ask.
“Well, worse-case scenario, I get fifty gallons of vinegar or waste a half-dozen eggs,” she joked.
“Funny—but how do you figure on the detailed part of my work in the courts? I don’t disagree with you, but I’d be interested in your view of it.”
“Well, an easy example would be to consider the vast number of cases that are filed in the system each year. On some occasions, I’m certain that it can seem infinite.”
“Indeed,” I interjected.
“At any given point, could you tell me how many of those cases are in backlog?” she asked.
“Yes—I’d be able to generally provide you with the key measurements for the entire caseload.”
“Okay—but would those measurements give me the specifics as to why a particular case is backlogged?”
“I see what you’re saying. It depends on the level of detail you’re looking for, but the report ordinarily provides an overview,” I stated pointing to her while taking another bite.
“If I wanted the details of the case, what would I need to do?”
“You’d have to review the specifics including the notes, event timeline, and the other records kept in the case jacket. If there was something unique about the matter that was not immediately evident, you’d need to do a little digging to see what was causing it to be backlogged.”
“But aren’t all the cases distinctive—each with their own story?”
“True. They certainly are if you ask any of the people who are personally implicated in the matter,” I replied.
“Right—so one can get a sense of trends and the overall composition of the caseload at the macro level, but having a fuller, deeper understanding of the case requires a micro-level review. I imagine there are a host of factors that can impact the effective management of the system and the efficiency with which a case moves through it. And I’d include the assignment of leaders and staff in that calculus as well.”
“And you wouldn’t be wrong.”
“Strappare gli occhi,” Toni remarked gesturing her index and middle fingers at her two eyes.
“What’s that mean?” I asked.
“Translated—it literally means ‘tear your eyes.’ But it can also be interpreted to mean keep your eyes peeled. Your line of work requires that you carefully consider the specifics of things because of the life-changing impact it can have on people.”
“Specifics—details,” I commented.
“Yes—to get to the core of the matter, you need to peel the layers. And some issues have more layers than others. And some are more consequential than others. Managing the court is just like making wine and frittata only a lot more serious—so pay attention to the details.”
***
Read the back label of most wine bottles and apart from the producer’s descriptors, one will find the words Contains Sulfites. These compounds are added to wine to improve its appearance, taste, and shelf life by eliminating any trace amounts of bacteria. It is generally added before bottling, and the dosage is relatively small—1/16 of a teaspoon for each gallon of wine. Climate is also instrumental to the kind of wine that is ultimately produced because it is linked to grape variety. Warm climates, for instance, are conducive to growing Cabernet Sauvignon or Syrah. In cooler regions, varietals such as Pinot Noir and Riesling thrive. Additionally, a high-quality harvest requires at least six hours of sunlight and ample water. But the soil must drain well because if it becomes saturated, the roots become easily rotted, ruining the crop. For this reason, winemakers will usually plant vines on a sloped terrain. Details, as Toni remarked, matter.
Managing the courts successfully necessarily means paying attention to the details of persons, places, and things. They come together in a time and space, the circumstances of which require good management if the system is going to serve its constituency well. Visit any court that is being effectively managed, and you will find a judiciary that is strategic about the range of issues impacting that specific community. Much like the grape varietal, policy issues affect rural, suburban, and urban courts differently, and so procedural responses must be tailored not only to jurisdiction, but also to a particular setting within that district. Organizational culture is critical and so how this is managed and navigated is frequently the difference between the success and failure of an organization; in many instances this can be attributed to the appearance, accessibility, and shelf life of its leaders. There is no leadership unless it also serves as an antidote to a toxic culture. Relatedly, and just as vital, is the care with which the court develops its most important commodity—the institution’s supervisors and staff. Court leaders are not only public servants but must also serve the folks employed by the third branch. This means staying attuned to the knowledge, skills, and abilities of staff and the intersection of those competencies with the needs of that particular community. Analogous to the sun’s importance to earth, effective managers are a pivotal part in helping to foster a work environment that allows people to continually develop and grow personally and professionally. Details are indeed mission critical.
The issues affecting the court and its constituency, such as the perennial backlog problem, challenge even the best managed institutions because they are rarely due to just one cause. Among other factors, ineffective procedures, staff shortages, insufficient court capacity, stakeholder availability, and laggards who exert control over the caseflow can all (to varying extents) impact the efficiency of the process. In light of all this, it is imperative that we pay attention to the details, particularly when we are certain of our understanding of a problem and the best solution. We may be right—for now and on this one issue—and the circumstances may not change with additional information that is attained; but it signals to the organization that we are receptive, as well as trains our minds to remain open to new information behooving us to evolve in these constantly changing times. Whether one seeks to understand the existence of life in the universe, the steps from growing grapes to bottling wine, making a delicious frittata sandwich, or the art and practice of administering justice, the key is in the details. The difference the details make is everything because often it makes all the difference. If this is ever in doubt, reconsider the thought, but this time think about the importance of those details while imagining yourself suspended in a sunbeam on a pale blue dot.
And those are just some of my musings on management.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Giuseppe M. Fazari has been musing about management concepts and practices throughout his career as an administrator, consultant, and academic. Contact him at fazarigm@icloud.com.
